by APRIL ASHEIM
Spring had heard that from some of Lanie’s friends but never from another little girl and it made her happy.
The girl said, "I gotta go now. I’m supposed to be getting a Band-Aid from the nurse’s office." She raised a leg and Spring winced at a small scrape on her knee. "Bye." The girl skipped off and Spring watched her disappear, pigtails flying behind her. She wished she could take her hand and go with her.
"What are you doing?" Spring jumped at the sound of her sister’s voice. "Daddy’s been looking everywhere for you. He says he’s gonna use the belt if you don’t get back to the booth. Show’s starting in a few minutes."
"Can’t you be the headless girl for a change?" Spring hated that job. It was a silly trick done with mirrors and nobody really believed it. She had to lie very still while people poked at her arms and tummy and tried to make her laugh or moan. Spring gave her sister her best pitiful look, hoping it would awaken something soft inside of her.
"No," said Chloe. "I’m too pretty to be headless."
Spring shoved her hands into her large pockets and followed, casting one last glance behind her at a school where a little girl with a purple jumpsuit was eating her lunch.
Spring returned home to see a familiar white van parked in her driveway. Jason leaned against it, snapping his fingers to the music of the Grateful Dead. Sam glared through the living room window and Spring thought if he concentrated any harder either the glass, or the vein in his right temple, would explode.
"Oh, fuck. I didn’t think you’d be here yet."
Jason nodded. "Maybe you should get a calendar."
"Maybe," she sighed, looking around for the twins.
"I need to talk to you when you get time," Jason said. One leg was bent, propped against his van. The other rested on the ground. His hair was bound at the nape of his neck by a rubber band probably stolen from somebody’s newspaper. His skin was tanned and his lazy smile was as intoxicating as ever. Even after all this time she could still feel herself give way to his maleness.
"I have time now," Spring answered, looking up and down the driveway for signs of her sons. "Where’s Blaine and Shane?"
"They went to go see their grandma," Jason said. He pulled himself upright and whispered conspiratorially. "Between you and me, I think your mother has finally lost her fuckin’ marbles. But we all knew that was coming, didn’t we?"
Spring panicked. "Why? What did she do?"
"She answered the door naked. And you know me. I’m no prude." Jason scratched at his left arm. "But you might wanna tell the old lady to put some clothes on before she goes scaring the neighbors."
"Is that what you needed to talk to me about? Aren’t you used to seeing naked people in that commune you live in?" Spring tried not to notice the pale hairs on his arms or the shadow of stubble across his jaw line.
Jason reached through the window and turned down the volume on his radio. "I think I’m gonna need more child support," he said. "The boys are starting to eat a lot."
"God. I knew it! I give you most of my money as it is. What do you spend it on?" Spring crossed her arms. "Maybe I will try and get full custody this time."
Jason seemed undisturbed. "You can try, but I think the arrangements are fine. If you think about it, seriously think about it, you will too. You get your freedom half the month and you get to play mommy the other half. Everybody wins."
Spring was annoyed. "I do not play mommy. I am their mother, Jason."
Jason shrugged. "Yeah. Whatever. But I know Nancy-boy in there isn’t going to be thrilled if you have them all the time, is he?"
Spring glanced at the window and saw Sam’s bare head still watching. "That may be true, but he knew this coming in. The boys need stability. That’s what everyone needs."
Jason laughed. "You move in with the little yuppie man and suddenly you’re Donna Reed. I remember where you came from. Do you?"
Spring looked towards the horizon but all she could see were the rows and rows of tract homes in the subdivision. The only thing that set one house apart from the next were the cars in the driveway. "I’m not that girl anymore."
Jason let that go. "Anyhoo, how did their appointment go last week? We never really talked about it. Their teacher says unless they get treated for their attention deficit disorder they won’t be going to the second grade. Wonder where they get that from?" Jason raised an amused eyebrow.
Spring stuck her tongue out at Jason and he laughed, throwing back his head. The sun hit the little hollow of his neck and Spring had the urge to bite it. "It cost a hundred bucks." She decided to bring up the medication, parenting classes, and child protective services at a later date.
"No problem. I will try and spange some money together. Please try and keep them off the drugs. I hear they are bad for you." Jason made a kissing gesture, and swung open the van door. "Girl, it wasn’t that bad. Us. Right? Better to eat Top Ramen every night than to live with Ichabod Crane here, I’d think." He closed the door and smiled at her through the window. "We didn’t have a lot. But we had fun."
Spange, that was a word she hadn't heard in a long time. Most people didn't even know what it meant. It was homeless-speak for panhandling. Spring watched as Jason pumped on the gas several times and turned over the engine. The van coughed a few times before roaring to life. She nodded goodbye and turned to see Sam disappear from view. From inside she heard his voice. "No! No boys! For the love of God. Not Dickens!"
"You did what?" Sam threw his arms in the air, trying to make sense of what Spring was saying. He had originally planned on lecturing her about the evils of spending so much time talking to Jason, but in light of this new information, he figured it could wait.
"I threw away the promotional tapes Kimberly gave me to deliver." Spring’s hair hung in her face and she was wearing one of those dreadful floral numbers with a hole in the armpit.
Sam cradled his head in his right hand, fighting back the impending migraine. "But why?"
"I couldn’t do it, Sam. Do you know what it’s like to trip and fall face first in City Hall while wearing a penis outfit?" When Sam said nothing, Spring stamped her foot. "Well, do you?"
"Settle down, Pookie," he said. "I’m concerned about you is all."
"People were laughing at me and the secretary at one of the places on Jane’s list called security on me. She thought I was offering her porno!"
Sam snickered and made his way towards the dresser where he kept his Midol. "That does evoke quite an image. Still, that doesn’t give you the right to destroy work property. Where did you toss them?" He popped two of the pills and swallowed without water. He never understood why Midols were marketed for women when they cured absolutely everything.
Spring glared defiantly and Sam wondered if he should offer her a couple of the pills, but thought better of it.
"I dumped them in the bin behind WCFG."
"Gah! The TV station!" Sam stumbled back and clutched his chest, feeling the pain in his head travel down his left arm into his heart.
Spring plopped down on the bed and started to cry. He sighed and sat down next to her and waited for her sobs to subside. "I don’t think Kimberly will find out. Sarah and I made a pinkie promise." Spring held up her little finger which she had curved into a hook to show the seriousness of their pact. Spring laid her head on his chest and even though he was still angry he put his arms around her.
"What’s done is done. I only hope you don’t lose your job."
"I know Sam,” she said.
He patted her head and squeezed her extra tight. "On that note," he said, pulling away from her. "I got a surprise. I went shopping."
Spring looked confused. "Shopping?"
"Yes, for you!" Sam felt under the bed for the silver bag he had stashed earlier, and handed it to Spring. "I made a special trip to The Career Outlet this afternoon!" He watched as she lifted each piece of clothing out of the bag and scowled. He held his tongue but when she balked at the silk scarf he could refrain no longer. "Try them on f
irst," he encouraged, ushering her into the bathroom. After a short while she emerged in her first outfit. What an amazing transformation.
"Sweetie, I know looking nice is new to you but it’s good for your job."
She was sitting on the edge of the bed in a grey suit and silver heels. Her décolletage peeped out and Sam went into the closet and pulled out a burgundy camisole.
"Try this with it. It will bring out your skin tone."
Spring looked up at him, dark circles under her eyes. "This isn’t me." She lay back on the bed, rumpling her new suit. "This isn’t me and I hate it!"
"Sweetie, come on. It’s just a suit. It’s not like you are wearing a clown costume or something." He flinched as she rolled back and forth on the bed, wrinkles imbedding themselves deeper into the fabric. If she took it off and hung it up now it could probably be salvaged without a trip to the dry cleaner.
Spring popped back up and shot him an accusing look. "I know it’s just a suit, Sam. But it’s not me! I didn’t get into social work to wear navy suits and silver heels. I did it to help people."
Spring was such a drama queen, always making a big fuss over nothing. He sat down on the bed beside her and smoothed the top of her hair. Would it kill her to keep the conditioner on the entire three minutes the bottle recommends? "It will be okay, Pookie. I promise you."
Spring turned to him, her blue eyes moist. Her bangs were askew and Sam resisted the urge to fix them. Maybe he could trim them when she went to sleep. "Do you love me Sam?" She tilted her head to the side.
"Of course I do, Pookie. That’s why I want you to look and feel your best. And this suit is going to be exactly the thing you need to do that."
Spring sighed but said nothing.
Sam watched as she hung her clothes. Who uses metal hangers anymore? His penis twitched as she held up her new khaki slacks and button down blouses. Now, if only he could get her to cut her hair. Something short and sporty. Maybe a Dorothy Hamill. He waited until all of her clothing was secured in the closet, and decided that now was the perfect moment.
"I want to make you happy, Spring. I want to buy you a house. I want you to be able to quit your job. I want to..." Sam cleared his throat. "...Take care of your boys and your mother." The last word hurt but he kept his face steady and his voice from cracking. "I want to marry you. Please say yes."
Spring didn’t say a word. Sam waited for a long, anxious moment and tried again. "Think of how good it would look to the state if the boys were in a stable home, Spring. There’s no way anyone could take them from you with me as their dad. I’m the most respectable person I know." Sam straightened an invisible tie. "Bankers don’t lose their kids."
At last Spring nodded. "Yes."
"Oh Pookie!" Sam was so relieved he thought he might pass out. "Thank you! Thank you so much. I’m getting married. There’s so much to do. We have a wedding to plan. Oh. And don’t worry. I’m going to get you a ring, even if I have to work overtime for a month straight. You’ve made me so happy."
Spring stepped out of her suit and pulled her ugly dress back on. "I’m glad Sam. I’m going to go help Lanie with dinner now. What shall we have?"
Sam looked at her and crossed his arms playfully. "Sweetie, I think we both know what I want." He gave her his sweetest smile and even tried for a dimple.
"Mashed potatoes and gravy?"
Sam winked. “Now hurry, snookums. I have to do my prayers. And you know God doesn’t like it when women or dogs are in the room when I’m talking to the big guy."
"You mean Allah." Spring corrected him.
He was in such a good mood he didn’t even mind her correction. "Whatever. Now go make us some dinner." Sam pecked her on the cheek and watched her leave, listening as her footsteps disappeared down the shag-carpeted hall. When he was sure she was not in range, he closed the door and very quietly turned the lock. He opened his arms wide and threw himself on the bed, kicking his legs in the air like an overturned bug. What joy!
Their two years together were finally paying off. Two years of listening to her whine, telling her she looked pretty, and teaching her how to be a lady. She was going to marry him and he would come into his inheritance. He only had to ensure that nothing happened between now and the time of the nuptials.
He surveyed her closet, twisting his face at her rows of flowered dresses that were hanging alongside her newer clothes. He saw the way men looked at her when she wore them. It was the very reason the Creator commanded women to cover up from head to toe. "Virtuous women don’t get raped," he tried to explain to her one day. "Because they show modesty and help men to avoid undue temptation." She had scoffed of course, and refused to try on the head covering he had picked out.
"I could toss them," he said to himself as he moved the hangers back and forth across the rod. He imagined them in a large barrel, set alight. A good old-fashioned dress burning. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t risk unnecessary drama right now. Maybe they could slowly disappear, one short dress at a time.
How much longer do I have? Sam returned to the bed and did the math. A few months, maybe. Grandma wasn’t going to hold out much longer. He reached under the bed and pulled out a copy of Contemporary Bride magazine. He lay on his stomach, his ankles crossed, and flipped through the pages. Too bad it wasn’t Fall. An autumn wedding would have been nice.
"Soon, soon, very soon," he said as he caught his reflection in the vanity mirror. His nine little hairs perked up and he smoothed them back into place, running his hand along bumps and ridges. "You’re a good-looking guy," he said, smiling and his reflection nodded back.
Twelve
"So what exactly is it we are working on today?" Debbie asked when they had settled in at their table at Paradise Pub. Spring was still without an office and Sarah’s cubicle was hardly big enough for Sarah.
Spring unloaded a box filled with bumper stickers that read, Casey the Condom for Mayor. Let’s Keep Our City Safe.
"We have a parade to attend," Spring said. "Kimberly wants to make sure we know exactly what we are doing before we arrive. Come up with a game plan."
"Lame," Sarah said, doodling on her napkin. "Who came up with this crap?"
"Rumor is Jane was sleeping with the PR lady," Debbie explained. Debbie, who had been working there the shortest amount of time, somehow had all the dirt on everyone.
"Look at these!" Sarah squawked, holding up a black T-shirt for the others to see. Written across the front in bold white letters were the words Teens in Trouble and on the back of the shirt TiT Patrol. "I call dibs on the penis suit."
"It’s a job," Spring said, inspecting the T-shirt. "As long as they are paying me I don’t care what I have to do."
"What a liar," Sarah accused. "You cared yesterday when I was carting you around Phoenix in the rubber suit. And I’ve heard you talk to the kids when you were a counselor. You care deeply."
Spring snorted. "Same as you."
Sarah leaned over, staring into Spring‘s eyes. "Do you really think I’m here because I care? I’m here because my husband is finding himself, which is code for unemployed. My mother knows Jane––God, I don’t want to think how––and she helped get me the job. That’s the only reason I’m here."
Spring folded her arms. "You’re depressing me. Thanks."
"We could always work on the condom dance spectacular," Debbie offered in reference to Kimberly’s suggestion of something Fred and Gingeresque. "To further push us over the edge. If we get a vagina costume we could do a splendid rendition of anything you can do I can do better."
"This is what I say," said Sarah. "Let’s eat lunch, have a drink, and check out the guys that come in here. Nothing to plan. I get in my costume, I toddle down the road throwing rubbers to the local youth, and you hold my hand. Meeting adjourned."
"Sounds like a plan," said Spring. She was getting a migraine and beckoned for the waitress.
"Let’s talk about weddings." Debbie bounced on her chair. Spring thought about how pretty she was when
she was excited. "A little birdie told me you are officially engaged," Debbie said, winking at the bread wrapper twisty-tie Sam had wrapped lovingly around her finger. "How are your arrangements going?" Debbie’s brown eyes were large and curious. Sarah tilted her head to listen.
"We haven’t made a lot of plans, in all honesty." In all honesty, Spring hadn’t made any plans, but Sam had been thinking of all kinds of ways to torture her in the last 24 hours. "Pookie what do you think about feathers on the bridesmaids' dresses? You know, like swans. They can move around in a circle and we can run through them. Wouldn’t that be pretty? Pookie, what if I wear a top hat? Wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe we could do your hair up real high, so we’d match. Pookie, maybe we could have a potato bar. You don’t see them at weddings much, do you?"
"We haven’t set a date. I don’t even have a ring yet." Spring removed the twisty and tossed it on the table.
Sarah narrowed her eyes. "There are worse things than not having a ring. Trust me. Like walking in on your mother giving your first husband a hand job."
"Ewww," Debbie said and Spring laughed.
"Listen to this. When I marry Sam, my name will be...Spring Wayne."
"That’s hilarious!" Debbie howled, causing a few of the guys at the bar to look in their direction. One of the men, a good-looking, dark haired fellow, looked hauntingly familiar and for a second Spring thought she was seeing a ghost. Her knees began to shake and her hands trembled on the table. Maybe she was.
"That man over there at the bar. I think that’s Trevor."
"Ooooh! Ex-boyfriend Trevor?" Sarah asked.
"Yes. Hide me. Quick." Spring reached down to pull a packet from the box to shield herself, but she over-guessed the reach and fell, crashing ceremoniously onto the dirty floor.
"I ain't gonna serve you if you can’t handle your alcohol," said the waitress, dumping off the drinks they had ordered, two Piña Coladas and a Seven Up. Spring looked over at him again and sure enough he was staring at her.
